


Sex and the Single Copywriter

by wisteriafic



Category: Mad Men
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisteriafic/pseuds/wisteriafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she knows is that she doesn’t want to be the other woman. She doesn’t want him to leave his family then resent her for the rest of his life. She just wants this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex and the Single Copywriter

_Fuck him. Fuck his wide-eyed nobility. Fuck Ted Chaough and all the bullshit he spoonfed me to get up my skirt._

Peggy catches her breath and stares at the empty office. He’s out there somewhere. She’s tempted to drag him back in here so she can say it to his face. But she never wants to see that stupid face again.

_Fuck him for thinking that “I love you” was enough._

Saying all that aloud isn’t going to solve anything. She knows that. But it feels good. She starts spitting out every curse word she can think of, even the ones Stan says to make her blush. Ma would be horrified. That just makes Peggy laugh. She lets it roll through her body, cauterizing the open wound in her chest. She refuses to cry over Ted Chaough. 

+++++

She survives Thanksgiving with her family. She even joins Anita for some shopping, which turns out to be a mistake. Too much whining about prices, followed by none-too-subtle digs at how Peggy can afford all the Christmas gifts she can’t. “Get a job,” Peggy mutters when her sister’s back is turned.

There’s a meeting Tuesday morning to reorganize the accounts due to “significant restructuring of the firm”. That’s the euphemism Roger and Cutler are going with. They barely even mention the 200 lb. Brylcreemed elephant in the room, which is good because Don Draper is on the list of things she would prefer not to think about. His leave of absence was supposed to lift a weight off everyone’s shoulders. Joan’s trying too hard to be festive in a green dress. Everyone else looks like they’re at a funeral. Maybe she'll miss him in a few months, but St. Joseph's is still too raw. 

Peggy chooses a chair that means she won’t have to look at Ted unless she leans forward and cranes her head. She spends the first hour of the meeting completely focused on business -- the good little Copy Chief or Assistant Creative Director or whatever the hell her title is now.

Whenever he speaks, Ted sounds chipper, like California will be great and his family is thrilled and he’s going to be the bestest little managing partner in the goddamned world out there. It makes her sick. Hearing without seeing finally gets the better of her, though, and she makes the mistake of glancing over at him. He looks absolutely miserable. Dark-eyed and kind of sweaty, like he hasn’t slept in days. He catches her looking at him, and he actually flinches, hands gripping the armrests as if they’re the only thing keeping him upright. And that awful hole in her chest expands, remembers that she was in love with him. That, for a few months, he was her best friend. 

Peggy looks down at her own clenched hands and takes a deep breath, then another and another, until the wound starts to close. If any of the others notice, they don’t let on. She’s past the point of caring, anyway.

Stan finally shows up to go over the Sunkist plans, and Ted’s voice is off to the races again, as if the past few moments never happened. Big surprise, that. 

“My last day here is December 28th. Do you think you and Peggy can get me the commercial storyboards a week beforehand, so we’ll have time to plan the presentation?”

“I don’t know. It’ll take some late nights. Right, Stan?” She lowers her voice, puts on her brightest smile. 

Stan just gives her a quizzical look before rolling his eyes. He’s the closest thing she has to a brother, and he always sees through her. “We’ll be okay. Storyboards are easy.”

“Working with you is always easy.” She’s making a fool of herself, but she just doesn’t give a damn anymore. Peggy looks over at Ted again, meeting his face full-on. _You don’t want anyone else to have me? Good luck with that._

+++++

At least she still has work to keep her busy. Peggy throws herself into all her usual accounts and then some; hell, she even helps Ginsberg with all the Chevy crap. Avoiding Ted altogether is impossible, but she tries her best. It’s hard, though, with him always around. Sometimes she catches him looking at her or saying her name to someone else. When it happens, that warm feeling slides into her gut before she can remember that she’s supposed to hate him. 

She is absolutely not going to pine away for Ted fucking Chaough. She’s done that before. It sucked.

Still, the memories get to her in so many ways. Accounts they worked on, places they ate lunch -- the usual. While rearranging her office, she finds the slip of paper that says “Copy Chief - $19,000”. Ted had it framed at the end of her first day at CGC. She remembers sitting with him at the restaurant as he sang her praises. Feeling like she could do anything in the world. 

Peggy starts to shove it in a desk drawer. Then she turns around and places it front-and-center on the credenza. She’s not going to let the bastard take that away from her.

One night, she and Joyce go out for drinks, and Peggy ends up bringing home a guy named Walter. He’s handsome. Nice enough. An entertaining drunk. Getting laid tonight would be a good distraction. But when her naked back hits the cool sheets, she sees Ted above her, hears the way he said her name like she was the most amazing thing on Earth.

She really should send Walter home. But it’s easier to just let him finish screwing her, rather than lie here alone and think about someone else. 

+++++

On his last day, she calls in sick. She’s spent the past month furious with him, but now she’s just sad. They could’ve been the perfect couple: kicking ass in presentations, pushing each other to new creative heights, the king and queen of Madison Avenue. But that’s impossible now. Maybe it always was - definitely since the sex got in the way. He was right last summer: he never should’ve kissed her. If only she hadn’t let him inside. If only -- if only --

What’s the point in mourning something you never had?

Peggy holds out until late afternoon, then she's walking to the end of her block and hailing a cab. Sunkist is done, but she can get some work in on the Avon billboards. He’s probably long gone by now. 

No such luck.

Most of the offices are dark, but his door is ajar. She pivots toward her own office -- the old one, before she left Don for Ted -- and ensconces herself inside. And there, leaning against her desk, is a gleaming leather art portfolio. A red bow on the handle. A card taped to the front, with her name in his handwriting.

_Peggy,_

_I bought this for you last summer, when things were good. They were good, weren’t they? We made one hell of a team. You have been the best thing about the past year, and one of the best parts of my whole life. I’m so proud of you. Use this to bring the advertising world to its knees. And if you ever need advice or just a laugh, I’m only a phone call away._

_Yours,  
Ted_

Yours. 

She coughs back something sour in her throat. Before she can think better of it, she stalks across the bullpen and through his door.

“What the hell are you trying to do?”

Ted doesn’t look surprised to see her. “Peggy --” 

“Yours? You’re not _mine_. You made that abundantly clear.” Her voice is supposed to be full of fury, but it just sounds weak.

He takes a step toward her then rocks back on his heels, hands falling to his sides. “I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

“You’re not dying, Ted. You’re just running away to California.”

Silence stretches between them like a living thing. She should leave. She can’t move. He stares at her with those warm eyes and faint smile, the way he would look at her before everything went to hell. She used to crave that look. She wants to tell him to fuck off, but she can’t. And she realizes that she never told him that she loved him. He never gave her the chance. 

“You never asked me what I wanted. Don’t I have a say in this?”

“If I’d asked you, that would’ve been it for me. I’d give you everything, if I could. I’d want to wake up with you every morning and be the one to make you laugh again. I’d want everyone in this building to know how I feel about you.” Palms scrub at his face. “But I have two boys. A divorce would destroy them.”

If he had been anyone else, she’d agree. But she’s _here_ and it’s _him_ and -- and -- 

“I loved you.”

“Peggy --” 

“I love you.”

He turns away and walks toward his office door. She closes her eyes and thinks: _yeah, I’ve screwed this up. Good riddance._ Then she hears the snick of the door locking, and he’s behind her. His hands are on her arms, mouth at the curve of her neck. “This is why I have to go. I need you too much.”

His hand slides over to her hip, and she gasps. She can’t remember why she came here, why she should hate him. Something makes her say, “We can still be professionals about this,” like she’s supposed to, but there’s nothing professional about how she wants to grab his hand and slide it under her waistband and down, down. _God_ , this feels good. One taste of the apple, and she needs more. 

“Professionals?” Ted laughs lightly against her throat. “This is the first time we’ve been alone since then, and all I want to do is see you naked on that couch.”

“Then don’t run away.”

His pulse beats against her back as they stand there. Warm breath on her neck, fingers tracing circles over her ribs. It’s too much. It’s only going to get worse if she stays. But she can’t leave. Something makes her whisper, “I don’t want you to leave your wife. I don’t want you forever. Just right now.”

This is it. 

As the silence stretches, she can’t decide whether to turn around and kiss him or get out of here. Either way, it’s going to be worse than last time. It’s going to hurt like hell.

He finally steps away. She swallows hard. Then he says, “Meet me in the lobby of the Savoy in an hour.”

_Oh._

She turns around to look at him. His eyes are bright, but he almost seems happy. Certain. Can’t take that risk, though. “You’ll be there, right?” _You won’t run away?_

“I’ll be there.”

+++++

Peggy wakes up with his mouth at her breasts. She threads her fingers through his hair and lets the warmth wash over her. She’s sore in places she didn’t even know she had muscles. And she can’t stop smiling. 

Ted kisses the tip of her breast then smiles at her. “Morning, sunshine.” A grin to match hers spreads over his face. It’s the first time she’s seen him smile since St. Joseph’s. She loves it. She wants to make him laugh again, the way they used to.

Leaning up on an elbow, she surveys the hotel room. The lowboy is bare from when he swept it clean and lifted her up on top, then thrust up into her so hard, so right, that it nearly made her scream. Damp towels hang off the chair, courtesy of the shower they took together, sliding along the marble tiles. The bedcovers litter the carpet. She lies here on the bed, completely naked, his body draped over hers. She feels decadent. She feels thoroughly, perfectly made love to. 

“I think we wrecked the room last night,” she mutters, and yeah, there’s that laugh of his.

“That’s what the maids are for.”

And their smiles get wider. God, she’s happy. So happy. The buzz in her chest is enough for her to ignore the sword hanging over their heads.

He kisses a path down her stomach, licks a circle around her navel. Oh, she realizes. He’s going _there_. She’s done this a few times, but everything feels so new right now. Pulse racing, she tosses him a pillow. He slides it under her hips then lifts them to meet his mouth. The world’s a blur as he kisses the thatch of hair and spreads her thighs. He licks and sucks, licks and sucks, and her whole body is so _alive_. She grasps the headboard for purchase as he makes her come once then again. So good, so amazingly good.

He crawls back up her body, slick face inches from hers. She whispers, “Good morning to you, too.” Kissing him - tasting herself on his tongue - is weird but also so good. A kiss, then another and another as he settles himself between her legs, ready to enter. She reaches for him, traces his length with his fingertips, then guides him inside.

As he makes love to her, she thinks of dancing with him. The waltz, the twist, the watusi. Happy and bright and fun. This is what they’re supposed to be, not slammed doors and pain. She tightens around him and laughs when he gasps her name. This is what she wants with Ted. Not everything else. Just this.

She doesn’t come again, but that’s okay. She’s happy just to watch his face when he peaks. Maybe it’s not the greatest sex in the history of the universe, but it’s perfect because it’s him.

Ted rolls over onto his back, spent. She curls into his side, the way she did that night before everything went to hell. But they came back from that hell, right? She decides she’s only going to live for right now.

They lie there for a while. His face is all sharp angles, but she’s surprised by how soft his body is. Not flabby or weak, just soft and warm. Well-lived-in. His chest rumbles, almost like a purr. No, wait, it’s his stomach growling. Laughing, she sits up and reaches for the room service menu.

He maps her body as they wait for breakfast to arrive. When the porter knocks, she runs to the bathroom for a robe then pads across the room to get the cart, like they’re a perfectly normal couple. Except they’re not. That’s something they can deal with later.

Of course, later comes after they’ve shared a huge plate of eggs and toast. She pours another glass of juice from the carafe. “I should call in sick again. It’s the week of the holidays. Nobody’s going to care.”

“I’m your boss, Peggy Olson. I care.” His lips twitch with another grin.

She rolls her eyes back at him, sitting on the bed in only his shorts. Then the air in the room seems to shift. He looks at his watch and says, “Nan and the kids left for Los Angeles the day after Christmas. I’ll wait a few more hours then call and check in.”

And there it is.

Is he going to tell Nan it’s over? Is he going to tell Peggy _this_ is? She tightens the belt of her robe, unsure whether to get dressed and leave. Unsure what the hell to say. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to be the other woman. She doesn’t want him to leave his family then resent her for the rest of his life. She just wants this.

“What’s going to happen now, Peggy?”

At least this time he’s giving her a say.

She gets out of bed and starts putting the dishes back on the cart while she gathers her thoughts. 

“I’m going home to clean up, then I’ll head to work. You’re going to fly to California tomorrow morning. Life goes on the way we always planned.”

“Just like that?” His voice sounds either angry or confused, but she doesn’t trust herself to turn around and find out which. Not yet.

“Well, you can still talk dirty to me over long-distance, though you should call me at home instead of the office. And you can definitely fuck me when you fly back here for meetings.”

“Peggy, _don’t._ ”

“I’m not upset, Ted. Really, I’m not.” She finally turns around, much calmer than she thought she would be. And it’s true. She is calm. She knew what she was getting into, and she can live with whatever the hell this is.

“I care about you, but I also know what’s real.” She sits on the edge of the bed, close but not touching him. “We needed this night together, and I’m so glad we had it. But I’m not going to break up your family and ruin your life. I don’t even want that. Maybe I’ll meet some other guy. Maybe you and Nan will split up for another reason. Whatever happens, I still want you in my life, even if it’s from three thousand miles away.” She feels her voice break. “I just want my best friend back.”

He reaches for her hand but stays quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “So that’s how it’s going to be.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah. That’s how it’s going to be.”

+++++

Life goes on. Just like that. She gets up every morning, goes to work, comes home. He phones several times a week to discuss their accounts. Peggy makes sure that it’s always a conference call, even when Ken or Joan or whomever asks why they’re needed in the meeting. Keeping it professional is a lot easier in front of an audience. But then he’ll say her name a certain way, like it’s a code that he’s still hers, even with a continent between them.

She tries to train herself not to think about him. It doesn’t always work, though, because it _did_ happen. There’s this part of her body with his name branded on it, like a tattoo. She could just shove it aside and let him be her boss again and _only_ her boss, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to remember it all.

One afternoon in late January, Stan stops by her office to go over the Sunkist print ads. “Ted’s riding my ass on these things. He keeps saying to show the customer what they need, not what they want. I thought that’s what I was doing.”

He tosses the sketches onto her desk. She examines them carefully then shrugs. “They look great to me.”

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“Nope.”

“Damn. I thought you were the Chaough expert.”

“Me?” She leans back in her chair, not liking where this conversation is going. 

Stan just laughs. “C’mon, Peggy. You and Ted...?”

She rolls her eyes, but that makes him laugh harder. Lying to Stan never got her anywhere, so she gets up, closes the door, and pours two drinks. “Fine. We had a thing. Just once.” She bites her lip. “Okay, twice.”

“That’s my girl!” he singsongs. “Sleeping with the boss.”

She takes a long swig of the Jim Beam, white-knuckled hand gripping the tumbler. Thank God that Stan knows her so well, because he stops smirking. “Well, shit. I’m sorry, Pegs. Want me to kick his ass for you?”

“Thank you for the kind offer, Mr. Rizzo, but I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s over.”

“Bullshit.”

She finishes off the drink and pours another. As the warmth spreads through her body, she tries to figure out what to say. “Do you know _why_ he went to California? To get away from me. He said he loved me, but he chose his wife and kids. How stupid is _that_?"

“C’mon, Peggy. Did you think it was going to end any other way?”

Damn his lack of tact. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear, Dr. Joyce Brothers.” 

He pats the sofa cushion next to him. “Get over here.”

She raises an eyebrow but sits down anyway. Stan nudges her knee with his. “Don’t let it get under your skin. He’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, he is.”

+++++

It looks like his original plan worked out after all. By mid-February, Ted has stopped saying her name that way. Quite the opposite. On all those conference calls, he’s cheery and even jokes with her, as if their fling never happened. It’s probably for the best. The plans she’s made for her life don’t include being some poor bastard’s grand sacrifice. Maybe they were never really in love. Just an office romance. Happens all the time.

That should make this easier. Instead, Peggy misses him like crazy. 

Wednesday night. No date, no work to take home. Just her and the cat she named “Cheese” in a temporary fit of insanity. The phone rings in sync with the opening strains of _Hawaii Five-O_. Great. Ma has been trying to set her up with some accountant from the church, and Peggy’s really not in the mood to come up with another round of excuses. She gets up to turn down the TV volume then reaches for the phone. “Hello?” she groans.

“Peggy, it’s me.”

Ted. 

Oh. “Hello,” she says. Careful.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh, I’m watching _Hawaii Five-O_.” When did talking to Ted Chaough become so awkward?

“Sorry, I forgot about the time difference. Didn’t mean to call so late.”

“Then why are you calling?”

She can hear the catch in his throat as he swallows. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Peggy has absolutely no idea what to say. Back in that hotel room, she assumed they would start an affair, albeit from opposite ends of the country. But if distance was supposed to cool things down, it worked. Or, at least, she thought it had. Maybe not. Maybe they can still do this.

She keeps her voice light, casual. “How is Los Angeles?”

“Work or life?”

“Both.”

He pauses then jumps in. “It’s an adjustment, but not entirely bad. I found a deli that serves bagels, except most of them have raisins or sunflower seeds. It’s certainly not Silverman’s.”

“You mean they don’t stare daggers when you ask them to hold the lox?” They both laugh. She remembers the first time he showed up at her office door with breakfast from there, how he got one of everything since he didn’t know what she liked. That might be when she began to fall for him.

He continues, “Nan found us a good church, and the boys are settling in at school. Brian wants to learn how to surf. I might even join him. Can you picture me on a surfboard?”

The last thing she wants is to sit here in her cold apartment while he tells her about his happy family, so she mutters, “That sounds like fun.”

Ted seems to take the hint. “Work’s going better than expected, but you already knew that. Oh, I have a story for you.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“When Harry was here last week, he brought in a representative from one of the television networks. The guy had the worst toupee I’ve ever seen, and it fell off right there in the meeting. When he got up to leave, I heard Pete ask where he’d bought it.”

“No!” 

“Yes!”

Peggy throws back her head and laughs loudly enough to send Cheese scurrying off to the bedroom. “I wish I’d seen that.”

“You would’ve loved it, Peggy.”

Everything that happened between them is still there, but right now she hears the man who would try anything to make her laugh, who made her feel like she’d finally found the man she could spend a lifetime with. God, she misses him.

Once the laughter dies down, she hears the distance between them again. He breaks it with, “So, you’re watching _Hawaii Five-O._ ”

“Yeah, Hawaii.” And she knows he’s remembering the same thing: lying together twenty feet from where she sits now. Basking in the afterglow. When she was so happy and in love, and he was going to be hers.

“Do you still want to go to Hawaii?”

Her jaw drops. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I meant --” She hears him swallow. “I have to fly out there next month to meet with the Sheraton executives and see about some potential new clients. Want to join me?”

She sits up straight, letting it sink in. Finally, she ventures, “As SC&P’s deputy creative director, or...?”

Her voice trails away. She listens to him breathe, like he’s weighing this as much as she is. Then he says, “As both.”

She stops herself from telling him that it’s a bad idea. Maybe it is, but right now she wants it more than she has wanted anything in ages. Throwing good sense to the wind, she says, “I’ll put it on my calendar.” And she can’t resist adding, “We can get a tan.”

Ted doesn’t reply for far too long. When too many seconds have ticked past, she says, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m just picturing you in a bikini.”

A familiar ache slides through her chest, full of all the things they could’ve had. 

“I miss you so much, Peggy.”

“Me too.”

+++++

“Where are you going?”

Peggy looks up at the saleslady and replies, “Hawaii.”

“Oh! I’ve heard that it’s beautiful.” The woman -- Stella, according to her nametag -- steers her over toward some orange one-piece swimsuits. “This tangerine would look lovely with your complexion.”

“I was hoping for a bikini...?” Peggy’s surprised by the sound of her voice: sheepish and pathetic, like the old her. God knows she has no right to be meek, given the circumstances.

Disapproval flashes over Stella’s face, followed by a polite smile. Peggy’s seen that look on her mother’s face far too many times. It’s a pity that Ted’s married, because Ma would love him. He’s polite and treats her well. Even better: he goes to church. Presbyterian, not Catholic, but at least Jesus is in there somewhere. The perfect man to bring home to Ma -- except, well, _married._

Peggy knows she’s supposed to feel guilty about that, right? Too late.

She picks out a bikini in red dotted Swiss, then another in orange. “Can I try these on?”

+++++

She expected their reunion to be like something out of a movie. He’d be waiting for her when she got off the plane. She’d run into his arms, and they’d kiss while everyone smiled at them. It was a foolish fantasy, but there it was. 

Reality almost always disappoints her, but this isn’t too bad. He is indeed there when her plane lands, but he offers her a handshake and a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again, Peggy,” he says in a neutral voice and reaches for her briefcase. 

As they walk to the baggage claim, he updates her on the status of the west coast accounts, but she’s too exhausted to pay much attention. She’s here for two days until they fly out to Honolulu, and she should really be on top of her game. But the loudest thought in her head is: _I’m here. I flew three thousand miles in an airplane, and now I’m here with Ted._

“Baggage claim always takes forever at LAX,” he tells her, like he’s become an expert in the past three months. “Hope you don’t mind waiting.”

“I’m fine. I can wait.” She gives him her cheeriest-but-most-professional smile, then searches his face for anything beyond a partner greeting one of his executives at the airport. 

As they stand there, he takes the tiniest step closer. The sleeve of his suit jacket brushes against her bare arm. Without a word, he reaches for her hand, his thumb tracing a path across her knuckles. 

She smiles.

+++++

Pete looks great. Even the top of his bald (non-toupeed) head is tanned. He holds court at a booth in a restaurant that has “the best damned Mexican food in the city”. Their new freelance copywriter -- a perfectly nice girl named Barbara -- insists on a taking the seat next to him at the booth, and she keeps laughing at everything he says. Peggy wonders if they’re sleeping together. She hopes so. She’s glad that life is finally treating Pete well.

Ted continues to be a paragon of professionalism. Even though she understands why, it’s still frustrating when they’re sitting hip-to-hip. The last day and a half have been full of his patented mixed signals. A quick touch at the airport, followed by abandoning her last night for his sons’ open house. An amazing kiss when he picked her up at the hotel this morning, then barely looking at her all day at the new office. 

“It’s a good thing you came out here,” Pete says, finishing off his whiskey and signaling for another. “Ted’s been off his game without you around.”

That’s an awkward thing to hear, given the circumstances. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“But it is! He did some great work back in New York. Now he just mopes around. C’mon, Ted,” Pete points at him with his glass. “You haven’t even gotten a tan yet.”

When Ted replies, she can hear how he’s treading carefully. “Well, Peggy _is_ the best copywriter the firm has ever had. No offense, Barbara.”

She laughs. “None taken. You’re a legend around here, Miss Olson. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”

“I’ll try my best.” Laughs all around, but Pete’s words hang in the air the way they often do when he gets drunk and tactless. Still, she’ll always have a soft spot for him. It feels like a lifetime since she was in love with him, and look where that got her. Good thing she has faithfully taken every single birth control pill since then, even though she’s not getting laid. Well, except for Ted. And right now she can’t tell whether that’s going to happen, not with him being so damned careful tonight. She decides to make things more interesting by opening another button of her blouse to give him a good look at her cleavage. When the waitress brings them a round of margaritas, Peggy makes a show of licking the salt from the rim then breaking out her biggest grin. This is California; shamelessness is allowed here, right? Besides, Pete already knows about them, and he’s not in any position to judge them, anyway. Might as well have some fun. 

And it works. His face stays as pleasantly cheerful as ever, but he places his hand on her knee and slides it up a few inches. “Didn’t you say this place had air conditioning?” Peggy blurts out, but it’s a poor excuse for her flushed face. Good thing nobody seems to care.

A few minutes later, Barbara begs off early to go to a party. Pete gives them a look then claims he sees a friend over at the bar. 

“Alone at last,” Ted says, his voice an octave deeper than usual. “Did you bring that bikini?”

She just raises her eyebrows and slides her hand across the bench and into his lap. “Want to come back to my hotel and find out?”

One finger traces his zipper, and a rush of heat shoots through her belly as he gets hard under her hand. “Peggy, not tonight,” he groans. “I have to get home early. If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to walk out of here.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Her voice sounds kittenish and ridiculous in her ears. She loves it.

“No,” he gasps. “But hang on a second.” He pulls off his jacket and drapes it over his lap. That’s her cue to tug open his zipper, the noise drowned out by the band’s next song. For a man who wears every emotion on his face, Ted stays impressively placid as she pulls his cock through his fly and gives it a squeeze. Then another and another, her thumb brushing over the tip. Quick and dirty and delicious. “I brought two bikinis: red and orange,” she whispers. “I can’t wait to show you.”

He looks like he can barely breathe for holding himself back. Peggy glances around the dark restaurant. “Nobody’s watching us. Come for me, Ted.”

And that’s all it takes. 

+++++

Nobody knows them here, except for the Royal Hawaiian executives who have gone home for the night. She and Ted have been given rooms on the eighth floor. She pops into hers, pulls back the bedspread and leaves some towels on the floor to make it look occupied, just in case. Then she picks up her suitcase and joins Ted at his door down the hall. As he fumbles with the key, he says, “I would’ve married you, Peggy.” He turns to look at her. “We could’ve come here on our honeymoon.” He opens the door and, with a grin, lifts her up and carries her over the threshold.

It’s so easy to get swept away when she’s with him. She lets herself fall. Nobody knows them here, and they can be whomever they want.

She knew this would happen. When she dressed for the flight this morning, she put on her best black bra and underwear, the same set she wore that first night. Once they’re inside the hotel room, Ted peels off her dress, eyes wide with appreciation. She stands there for a moment and lets his eyes drink their fill. Then she begins taking off his clothes, her turn to map his body with her hands and tongue. Imprinting every inch on her memory.

When he stretches out on the bed, she takes off her underwear and straddles him. She wants to tell him so many things: that he’s amazing; that he’s her best friend; that she’s still in love with him. But the words catch in her throat, so she leans down and kisses him. Then she shifts her hips and takes him inside.

Later, as the light outside the windows shifts into a Polynesian sunrise, she wakes up and stares at his face on the pillow. That familiar glow settles in her chest, along with a familiar pain. She traces words along his shoulder and listens to him breathe.

That’s when she realizes that she likes waking up with him too much. And that’s when she knows that this has to end.

+++++

_“Hilo Macadamia Nuts: Bring the Luau to Your Table.”_

Peggy takes a deep breath and looks around the small conference room. Mr. Simpson seems impressed, with Mr. Kaeo a bit less so. An uncharitable part of her thinks that they probably don’t get many fancy ad agency presentations here in Honolulu, so she’d expect them to be a bit more blown away. Oh, well. No skin off her back. The whole pitch was Ted and Barbara’s creative, anyway; she’s just along for the ride.

Ted is, of course, beaming at her. He always acts like her presentations are the most amazing things he’s ever seen. At least half of that is because it’s his job as Managing Partner, but the rest is, well, just Ted. He still sings the praises of the St. Joseph’s spot, even though the diminished version isn’t nearly as Clio-worthy as it could’ve been. Maybe she hasn’t completely earned all his praise, but it still feels good.

Mr. Kaeo stands and holds out a hand. “Thank you again for coming out from the mainland. Please let us take you to dinner tonight and show you our beloved city.”

“We’d be honored,” Ted replies. Handshakes all around, then they’re walking back out into the sun. 

Once they’re in the taxi back to the hotel, he says, “Nice work, Peggy. _Very_ nice. Thanks to you, we’re well on our way toward establishing a West Coast presence.”

Yeah, it’s always nice to help bolster the thing that sent him running away. It’s good for the firm, but she’s not feeling magnanimous right now. “Thanks, but you and Pete did all the work, and Barbara’s turning out to be a good copywriter.”

“That may be true, but you’re the one who wowed the nuts people today.” He pauses then quips, “You made them go nuts.”

It’s a horrible joke, but she giggles nonetheless. One finger traces the edge of the leather portfolio between them, and she remember his note: _We made one hell of a team._

Ted shifts the portfolio aside and takes her hand. “Bringing you here with me was a great idea. We do our best work together.” He turns to look out the window. “I should’ve thought of that before....”

_Before what? Before you decided I wasn’t worth the sacrifice?_ She waits for him to finish, to say something that would actually make sense. But he just keeps looking away. So much for their so-called honeymoon.

The taxi pulls into the Royal Hawaiian’s portico. She gets out and waits for Ted to pay the fare. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven for dinner.”

“Peggy, wait.” He circles the car and grabs her arm. Firm but not bruising. “I need to talk to you.”

She starts to say no, that he doesn’t get to explain himself again, but something about the pain on his face makes her relent. “Fine. Five minutes.”

They walk over to the open-air bar. He takes a seat on one of the stools, but she remains standing, lest he think she’s getting comfortable. And then he starts to talk.

“I know you think that my decision was selfish, and it was. But it was also about you. I meant it when I said that I was going to leave my wife and kids. And that would’ve ruined your career. No matter what amazing things you did in the advertising world, you’d always be seen as the homewrecker who slept her way to the top. You deserve so much more than that.”

She rolls her eyes, but it rings true. God knows she’s been fighting those rumors ever since Don gave her that first promotion. 

He continues, “If I wanted you gone, I could’ve sent you out to California.”

“I wouldn’t have --” 

“Let me finish.” He squares his shoulders. Eyes wide, painfully earnest. It’s so very _Ted_. “Your life is in New York. Your career is there. Starting over in Los Angeles would’ve risked all that. I’m a partner, so I can afford to take that risk. You belong on Madison Avenue.”

He makes it sound so easy, and that same voice in her head knows he’s right. He acts like her career is worth all this pain. And, heaven help her, maybe it is. She thinks back to the decision she made this morning, and she wonders if Ted realizes that he’s making it easier for her to leave him.

“Why didn’t you let me be the one to decide that?” Damn it, her voice sounds so weak. 

He reaches for her hand again, but she moves it away. “If I had, Peggy, I never could’ve gone through with this. I was so close to giving up everything for you. If it weren’t for my boys, I’d marry you in a heartbeat. Nan may not want me anymore, but Brian and Chris do. They always have to come first.”

She can’t say anything, or she might cry. After a moment to push back the emotions, she says, “I need to be alone right now. I’ll see you tonight.”

Ted just nods and stands up. “Peggy, you’re --” He stops and swallows hard. “Thank you for listening.”

And then he’s gone.

She grinds her teeth then sits down on his still-warm stool and orders a drink.

+++++

“You look gorgeous in that swimsuit.”

Peggy laughs and stretches out on her beach towel. “You may have mentioned that once or twice already.” Like when she modeled it after their morning meeting, and he proceeded to take it off again, devouring every inch. They’d made love slowly, and she tried to store each touch, each sensation in her memory because it was the last time.

He doesn’t know that, of course. As far as he’s concerned, they’re still on their fake honeymoon. She lets him think that, postponing the pain as long as possible. But they’re going to board a plane for Los Angeles -- and continuing to New York for her -- in a few hours, and it’s time.

One last sip of liquid courage from her mai tai, then she rolls over on her beach towel and says his name.

A shadow falls over his face; he knows her too well. “What is it, Peggy?”

Looking at him makes this even worse, but she keeps her eyes open. “When I moved in with Abe, my mother was furious. She said that I deserved better.”

Ted’s a smart man. He catches on immediately. The open wound on his face matches the one in her gut. But she forces herself to keep going. “I thought we could do this, but I was wrong. I can’t be the other woman, and you can’t leave your family. I want to marry you and have kids and rule Madison Avenue together. But that’s not going to happen.”

He leans up on one elbow and opens his mouth like he can’t breathe. “It could still happen. All of my problems with Nan followed us out here, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep going. Maybe in a few years --”

“Ted, _don’t_.” She places her palm on his chest. “If it happens someday, give me a call. But I can’t keep waiting. I have to move forward.”

She scoots over and leans in to kiss each corner of his mouth. “You’re always going to be the love of my life, Ted Chaough.”

He wraps his arms around her. “You too,” he whispers, resigned, breath catching on the words. Part of her wishes he’d fought harder, but another part is glad. Giving in would be too easy, and she has to stay strong.

The surf still rolls in at their feet. Some kids in the distance laugh with their parents. A plane will lift off in three hours. Life goes on. Hers will too, but with him three thousand miles away. And she can live with her choice. She has to.

+++++

End (1/1)

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank-you to Cosette for her help!


End file.
